Standing at the crossroad
You could be singing the blues
But didn't you notice the skyline ?
It's an artificial horizon
It was painted on your mind before you were born
And now all you have to do is stare at your own eyes
You'd better stay behind the screen or in front of it
While you throw your bra in another dimension
Please wait till your brain gets itchy
It means the waiter is coming, blinking his eyes
He's going to serve chilled poems to you
They'll make you fly into the open, burn your soul
Look at the horizon, it's real, now !
Will you save the last dance for me ?
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